Thirteen Reasons Why
by walkingproof
Summary: Bellamy returns home from school to find a package addressed to him. Inside he discovers seven cassette tapes, recorded by Clarke Griffin-his classmate and crush-who committed suicide two weeks earlier. Clarke's voice tells him there are thirteen reasons why she decided to end her life. Bellamy is one of them. If he listens, he'll find out why.
1. Intro

**A/N: I want to mention that this story is VERY close to Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why. Same theme and pretty much same story line, but i wanted to tweak it for the 100. This story will have mature themes and this story will have many triggers, so if you decide to proceed with this story please proceed with caution.**

* * *

A small package is leaning against the wall on my front porch. We never really receive any packages but I figured it must have been for my mom. I stepped up and grabbed the box and was surprised to see that the package was addressed to me, Bellamy Blake.

I headed inside with the package and set it on the kitchen counter. I pulled open our junk drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors slicing through the tape on the top and sides. Inside was something wrapped in bubble wrap. I unrolled it and seven loose audiotapes fall onto the counter.

Each tape has a number written in black marker in the upper right-hand corner. Each side has its own number. One and two on the first tape, three and four on the next, five and six, and so on. The last tape has a thirteen on one side, but nothing on the back. Who would send me a small box full of audiotapes? No one listens to cassettes anymore. Do I even have a way of listening to them?

The garage! The stereo on the work bench is old and covered in saw dust and paint, but best of all it has a cassette player that still works. I drag the stool in front of the workbench, drop my bag to the floor, then sit down. I press eject on the player and plastic door eases open and I slide in the first tape.


	2. Cassette One, Side A

**-PLAY-**

 _ **Hello, boys and girls. Clarke Griffin here. Live and in stereo.**_

I don't believe my ears.

 _ **No return engagements. No encore. And this time, absolutely no requests.**_

No, there's no way this is happening. Clarke Griffin killed herself.

 _ **I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why.**_

What? No! There was no way that was true. I barely got to know her. How could I have done something that would cause me to be on these tapes?

 _ **I'm not saying which tape brings you into the story. But fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up…I promise.  
Now why would a dead girl lie?  
Hey! That sounds like a joke. Why would a dead girl lie?  
Answer: Because she can't stand up.**_

Is this some sick twisted suicide note?

 _ **Go ahead. Laugh.  
Oh well. I thought it was funny.**_

Before Clarke died, she recorded a bunch of tapes. But why?

 _ **The rules are pretty simple. These are only two. Rule number one: You listen. Number two: You pass it on. Hopefully, neither one will be easy for you.**_

"Bell? What is that you're playing?"

"Octavia!"

I scramble to turn off the stereo almost knocking it to the floor in the process.

 **-PAUSE-**

"O, you scared me," I clutch my hand to my chest trying to steady my breathing.

"What are you listening to?" she asks again walking into the garage and towards the workbench I'm seated at.

"Oh, umm…school project." That seems to be the answer I always give these days. Staying out late? School project. Need extra money? School project. And now the tapes of a girl. A girl who, two weeks ago, swallowed a handful of pills.

"Can I listen?" she asks.

"It's not mine," I say pushing the stereo out of the way, "I'm just helping a friend. It's for history. It would probably bore you to death. Greek mythology and what not."

I saw my sister wrinkle up her nose in disgust and I felt like I could breathe a little easier, "Well I'll leave you to it." She leans over me and grabs a hammer from the tool box sitting across from me, "I'm going to hang some stuff up in my room." She turns, her hair almost whipping me in the face.

I wait until the door closes and I can hear her close her bedroom door down the hallway. I pull the stereo back and my finger hovers over the play button. My body feels hollow; like I don't have enough strength to press a single button on this stereo. I pick up the box of tapes and set them by my foot pushing the box under the bench. I press the play button and turn down the volume and prop my arms up on the bench.

 **\- PLAY-**

 _ **. . .one: You listen. Number two: you pass it on Hopefully neither one will be easy for you.  
When you're done listening to all thirteen sides—because there are thirteen sides to every story—rewind the tapes, put them back in the box, and pass them on to whoever follows your little tale. And you, lucky number thirteen, you can take the tapes straight to hell. Depending on your religion, maybe I'll see you there.  
In case you're tempted to break the rules, understand that I did make a copy of these tapes. Those copies will be released in a very public manner if this package doesn't make it through all of you.  
This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision.  
Do not take me for granted. . .again.**_

Again? What did she mean again? I still don't understand how I could be on one of these seven tapes.

 _ **You're being watched.**_

 **-PAUSE-**

My stomach drops and I can feel the bile trying to rise up in my throat if I let it. I debate going into the bathroom and emptying the cafeteria pizza from earlier today. I hardly knew Clarke Griffin. I mean, I wanted to. I wanted to know her more than I got the chance to. She grabbed my attention the day we started working together at the arcade. Not too long ago, at a party, we made out. But I never got the chance to get any closer to her. But not once did I take her for granted. Not once.

These tapes shouldn't even be here at my house. Not with me, there's no way I did anything to land me on these tapes. There has to be some kind of mistake, either that or someone is playing a sick joke on me. I pull the box up from the ground and take another glance at the label, it was definitely addressed to me but there had to be a return address somewhere on here. Maybe I'm just overlooking it, or I'm in denial that I did something to hurt her. To make her hate me.

Clarke Griffin's suicide tapes are being passed around and someone made a copy and sent them to me as a joke. Tomorrow at school I'll be laughed at or a rumor spread about me. And then what? What will I do? I don't know.

 **-** **PLAY** **-**

 _ **I almost forgot. If you're on my list, you should have received a map.**_

I take a glance in the box but see nothing. Suddenly I remember a few weeks ago someone dropped an envelope into my locker. The outside written in black marker was 'SAVE THIS—YOU'LL NEED IT'. Inside was a folded up map of the city with about a dozen gold stars marked around town. The reality settles in, I earned a spot on the list.

I had kept the envelope in my backpack since then. I meant to toss it but over time it slipped my mind and I forgot all about it. Until now.

 _ **Throughout the tapes, I'll be mentioning several spots around our beloved city of Arkadia for you to visit. I can't force you to go there, but if you'd like a little more insight, just head for the stars. Or, if you'd like, just throw the map away and I'll never know.**_

As Clarke's voice fills my garage, I feel the weight of my bag pressing against my leg. Inside of it, a crushed map sits at the bottom.

 _ **Or maybe I will. I'm not actually sure how this whole dead thing works. Who knows, maybe I'm standing behind you right now.**_

I let my face fall into my hands and slide my fingers through my hair, tugging it hard to make sure this isn't some nightmare.

 _ **I'm sorry. That wasn't fair.  
Ready Mr. Collins?**_

Finn Collins. A senior. He was Clarke's first kiss. But why do I know that?

 _ **Finn, honey, you were my very first kiss. My very first hand to hold. But you were nothing more than an average guy. And I don't say that to be mean—I don't. There was just something about you that made me need to be your girlfriend. To this day I don't know exactly what that was. But it was there. . . and it was amazingly strong.  
You don't know this, but two years ago when I was a freshman and you were a sophomore, I used to follow you around. For sixth period, I worked in the attendance office, so I knew your schedule, which I'm sure I still have here somewhere. And when they go through my belongings, they'll probably toss it away thinking a freshman crush has no relevance. But does it?  
For me, yes, it does. I went back as far as you to find an introduction to my story. And this is where it truly begins.**_

My mind is reeling. So where am I on this list? Am I second? Third? Or maybe I'm unlucky thirteen? Does this get worse as it goes on? She did say number thirteen could take the tapes straight to hell.

 _ **When you reach the end of these tapes, Finn, I hope you'll understand your role in all of this. Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters.  
Betrayal. It's one of the worst feelings.  
I know you didn't mean to let me down. In fact, most of you listening probably had no idea what you were doing—what you were truly doing.**_

What did I do, Clarke? Because I honestly have no clue. If it's the night I'm thinking of, it was just as strange for me as it was for you. Maybe more so, since I still don't know what the hell happened.

 _ **Our first gold star can be found at C-4. Take your finger over to C and drop it down to the 4. That's right, like Battleship. When you're done with this tape, you should go there. We only lived in that house a short while, the summer before my freshman year, but it's where we lived when we first came to town.  
And it's where I first saw you, Finn. Maybe you'll remember. You were in love with my friend Raven. School was still two months away, and Raven was the only person I know because she lived right next door. She told me you were all over her the previous year. No literally all over her—just staring and accidentally bumping into her in the halls.  
I mean, those were accidents, right?  
Raven told me that at the end-of-school dance, you finally found the nerve to do more than stare and bump into her. The two of you danced every slow song together. And soon, she told me, she was going to let you kiss her. The very first kiss of her life. What an honor!**_

These stories must be really bad. Like really, really bad. That's the only reason these tapes are being passed on from one person to the other. Out of fear. Who would want to mail a bunch of tapes calling you out in blame for a suicide? But Clarke wants us, all of us on the list, to hear what she has to say and with her threat she's made that happen.

"The list." I scoffed. It sounds like some secret club, an exclusive club. A club I don't want to be a part of, yet here I am.

 _ **I wanted to see what you looked like, Finn, so we called you from my house and told you to come over. We called from y house because Raven didn't want you to know where she lived. . . well, not yet. . . even though her house was right next door.  
You were playing ball—I don't know if it was basketball, baseball, or what—but you couldn't come over until later. So we waited.**_

A lot of us played basketball that summer hoping to make Junior Varsity as freshmen. Finn, only a sophomore, had a spot waiting for him on varsity. So we all played ball with him in hopes of picking up skills over the summer. Some of us did, but I wasn't one of them.

 _ **We sat in my front bay window, talking for hours, when all of a sudden you and one of your friends—hi, Wells!—came walking up the street.**_

Wells? Wells Jaha? The only time I've seen Wells with Clarke, even for a second, was the night I first met her. Wells dad was the mayor and had so many people eating from his hand, but Clarke wasn't one of them.

 _ **Two streets meet in front of my old house like an upside-down T, so you were walking up the middle of the road towards us.**_

 **-** **PAUSE** **-**

Wait a minute. I need to think. I pick at my jeans. Why am I listening to this? Why should I torture myself listening to all the things that cause Clarke to kill herself? Why not just pop the tape out of the stereo and throw the entire box of them in trash? I sigh, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Deep down I knew the reason. It was Clarke's voice, a voice I thought I would never hear again. I didn't get a chance to know her like I wanted to before, but maybe now I could. I can't throw that away.

Plus, the rules state I can't throw them away. I'm supposed to listen, rewind, and mail to the next person. I look at the small box hidden under the work bench. Clarke said she made a copy of each of these tapes. But what if she didn't? Maybe if the tapes stop, if I don't pass them on, then that's it. It's over.

But what if there's something on here that could hurt me? What if all of this isn't just some twisted trick? Then a second set of tapes will be released. That's what she said, and everyone will hear what's on them. Am I really willing to test her bluff? Could I really handle whatever she says about me? Whatever I did that help pushed her to swallow a handful of pills. I sigh and push back the idea to throw all the tapes away.

 **-** **PLAY** **-**

 _ **You stepped out of the gutter and planted one foot on the lawn. My dad had the sprinklers running all morning so the grass was wet and your foot slid forward, sending you into a split. Wells had been starting at the window, trying to get a better view of Raven's new friend—yours truly—and he tripped over you, landing beside you on the curb.  
You pushed him off and stood up. Then he stood up, and you both looked at each other, not sure of what to do. And your decision? You ran back down the street while Raven and I laughed like crazy in the window.**_

I remember hearing about that. Raven thought it was hilarious and she told me about it at her going-away party. The same party where I first saw Clarke Griffin. God. I thought she was so pretty. Her blonde waves falling over her shoulder, the freckle over her mouth. The way her whole face lit up when she laughed. That's what really got me. Now that I know that there are thirteen reasons that led up to her suicide, it makes me realize how well I didn't know her. The worst part of it is knowing I was one of the thirteen reasons.

 _ **Raven moved away before the start of school, and I fell in love with the boy she left behind. And it wasn't long until that boy started showing an interest in me. Which might have had something to do with the fact that I seemed to always be around. And it wasn't by accident.  
We didn't share any classes, but our classrooms for periods one, four, and five were at least close to each other. Okay, so period five was a stretch, and sometimes I wouldn't even get there until you'd already left for your next class, but periods one and four were at least in the same hall.**_

At Raven's party, everyone was hanging outside around the fire pit, it was probably the coldest night of the summer. And I, of course, forgot my jacket because I wanted to show off the muscles I had gained while working out over the summer.

 _ **After a while, I managed to say hello. And a little while later, you managed to say it back. Then, one day, I walked by you without saying a word. I knew you couldn't handle that, and it left to our very first multiword conversation. One of many.  
"Hey!" you said. "Aren't you going to say hi?"  
I smiled, took a breath, then turned around. "Why should I?"  
"Because you always say hello."  
I asked why you thought you were such an expert on me.  
I said you probably didn't know anything about me.**_

At Raven's party I made a fool of myself. I bent down to tie my shoe during the first time I spoke to Clarke. I was so nervous I couldn't tie my stupid shoelace because my hands were shaking so bad. To Clarke's credit she offered to help. Of course, I wouldn't let her. Instead, I waited until Wells inserted himself into our incredibly awkward conversation before sneaking inside and sitting on the couch to tie my shoe. It wasn't my finest moment.

 _ **Earlier, when I asked my mom how to get a boy's attention, she said, "Play hard to get." So that's what I was doing. And sure enough, it worked. You started hanging around my classes waiting for me.  
It seemed like weeks went by before you finally asked for my number. But I knew you eventually would, so I practiced saying it out loud. Calmly and confidently, like I didn't really care. Like I gave it out a hundred times a day.  
Yes, boys at my old school had asked for my number. Even some of the girls. But here, at my new school, you were the first.  
No. That's not true, Lexa was the first. But you were the first to actually get my number.  
It's not that I didn't want to give it out before. I was just cautious. New town. New school. And this time, I was going to be in control of how people saw me. After all, how often do we get a second chance?  
Before you, Finn, whenever anyone asked, I'd say all the right numbers up until the very last one. And then I'd get scared and mess up, but it was sort of accidentally on purpose. **_

I wasn't surprised hearing that Clarke was bisexual. There were rumors, but like the others I ignored it. I bent down and grabbed my bag and pulled it onto my lap and unzipped the largest pocket.

 _ **I was getting way too excited watching you write down my number. Luckily, you were way too nervous to notice. When I finally spat out that last number—the correct number—I smiled so big.  
Meanwhile, your hand was shaking so badly that I thought you were going to screw it up. And I was not going to let that happen. **_

I pulled the map from my bag and unfolded it, laying it on the workbench. I used the wooden ruler off to the side to smooth out all the creases from being shoved to the bottom of my bag.

 _ **I pointed at the number you were writing. "That should be a seven," I said.  
"It is a seven."  
"Oh. Well, as long as you know it's a seven." I could feel the heat in my cheeks.  
"I do," you said. But you scratched it out anyway and made an even shakier seven.**_

Through the door leading in the house I hear Octavia call my name. I lower the volume, ready to hit Stop if it opens.

"Yeah?"

 _ **By the time I got home, you'd already called. Twice.**_

"Mom wants to know if you're having dinner with us tonight."

 _ **My mom asked who you were. I said we had a class together. You were probably just calling with a homework question. I could see my parent's look at each other, "That's exactly what he told me." She said. I couldn't believe it. Finn, you lied to my mom. So why did that make me so happy?**_

I look down at the first gold star. C-4. I know where that is. But should I go there?

"No," I say. "I'm heading to a friend's house. For his project."

 _ **Because our lies matched. It was a sign.**_

"Alright, mom said she'll leave you some in the fridge and you can reheat it later." I could hear Octavia and my mom talking as she headed back towards the kitchen.

 _ **My dad asked what class we had together and when I said math he smiled and said that's what you told him. It wasn't technically a lie, we both had math. Just not together. And not the same type. I accused them of not trusting me and grabbed your number from her hand and I could hear my dad laughing as I ran upstairs.**_

I'll go there. To the first gold star. But before that, when this side of the tape is over, I'll go to Atom's. Atom never upgraded his car stereo so he still plays tapes. He claims it's so he can stay in control of the music if he gives someone a ride. If they try to bring their own he'll tell them the format isn't compatible, because who owns cassettes these days? Apparently, Clarke Griffin does.

 _ **When you answered the phone, I said, "Finn? It's Clarke. My mom said you called with a math problem."**_

Atom drives a Mustang that was handed down from his dad. There aren't many things that rival Atom's love for his car, more girls have dumped him out of envy than have kissed my lips.

 _ **You were confused, but eventually you remembered lying to my parents, and like a good boy you apologized.**_

While Atom isn't someone I'd call a friend, we have worked on a few projects together. I know where he lives and most importantly he owns an old Walkman that I've seen multiple times in the floorboard of his car. I still remember my surprise the last time I saw it, kids our age didn't have Walkman's. We have MP3 players. I'm hoping he'll let me borrow it. Luckily he only lives a few streets over from me, which happens to be a block or two from Clarke's first gold star.

" _ **So, Finn, what's the math problem?" I asked. You weren't getting off that easy.**_

I know I can't sit here a listen. I can't let Octavia or my mom hear her voice, hear what she's saying. I need to leave; I need room to breathe. And staying in this garage is suffocating.

 _ **And you didn't miss a beat. You told me Train A was leaving your house at 3:45 PM. Train B was leaving my house ten minutes later.  
You couldn't see this, Finn, but I actually raised my hand like I was in school rather than sitting on the edge of my bed. "Pick me, Mr. Collins. Pick me," I said.  
"I know the answer."  
When you called my name, "Yes, Miss Griffin?" I threw Mom's hard-to-get rule out the window. I told you the two trains met at Polis Park at the bottom of the dropship slide.**_

I never understood what Clarke saw in him. Even she admits she couldn't put her finger on it. But for someone who looks like a hippy, he's got a lot of girls that are into him. Sure, he's got nice hair. And maybe they find him intriguing since he's always looking out the windows looking like he's trying to solve the world's hardest math problem.

 _ **A long pause at your end of the line, Finn. And I mean a looooong pause. "So, when do the trains meet?" you asked.  
"Fifteen minutes," I said.  
You said fifteen minutes seemed awfully slow for two trains going full speed.**_

Whoa. Clarke, slow down.

 _ **I know what you're thinking. Clarke Griffin is a slut.  
Oops. Did you catch that? I said, "Clarke Griffin is." Can't say that anymore.**_

Her light laugh causes my stomach to twist into knots. I drag the stool closer to the work bench. What is she thinking? Are her eyes closed as she talks about this? Is the finality of her decision weighing down on her at all? What is she doing? I can't hear!

 _ **Wrong.  
Clarke Griffin is not, and never was, a slut. Which begs the questions, what have you heard?  
I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked a boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the whole story right there.  
The few nights leading up to our meeting in the park, I'd had the same dream. Exactly the same. From beginning to end. The dream starts with me at the top of the dropship hanging over the ledge looking down at you. I hear your voice calling up from the ground. "Clarke! Clarke! Stop playing up there and come see me."  
So I climb down and slide down the slide landing right in front of your feet. Only my feet are almost too big to stand up. You help me stand, "I love big feet." You whispered tucking hair behind my ear. I then notice that your feet are extremely small. Almost nonexistent. **_

I can't help but smile thinking about the possible insinuation with those words.

 _ **I see that my huge feet don't step on your little feet.  
"See? We're made for each other," you say. Then you lean in to kiss me. Your lips get closer . . .and . . .closer . . .and . . .I wake up.  
Every night for a week I woke up in the exact same about-to-be-kissed spot. But now, Finn, I would finally be meeting you. At that park. At the bottom of the slide. And damn it, you were going to kiss the hell out of me whether you liked it or not.**_

I felt the sigh escape my lips. Clarke, if you kissed back then like you kissed me at the party, trust me. He liked it.

 _ **I told you to meet me there in fifteen minutes. Of course, I only said that to make sure I got there before you. But the time you walked into the park I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be on top of the dropship looking down at you and you call me down to you. Just like in my dreams, and that's how it happened. . . minus the funky feet.  
From my viewpoint at the top of the rocket, I saw you come in at the far end of the park. You checked your watched every few steps and walked over to the slide, looking all around, but never up.  
So I whistled over the rail. You took a step back and looked up. You even called my name, but don't worry. Even though I wanted to live out my dream I didn't expect you to know every line and tell me to come see you.  
"Be right down," I said.  
But you told me to stop. That you would climb up to where I was.  
I wanted this as close to my dream as possible so I told you I'd take the slide. Then you repeated those magical words, "Come see me."**_

Her experience definitely beat my first kiss. Sixth grade, Andrea Willis, behind the bleachers during gym class. She came over to me earlier in class and whispered the proposition in my ear. I had a hard on for the rest of the day. But once the kiss was over and my lips covered in bubblegum lip gloss she ran away. After that day I always had a love for bubblegum lip gloss.

 _ **I slid down the slide landing at your feet. And just like the dream you helped me stand and tucked a curl behind my ear before leaning down and kissing me. That was it.  
So who out there wants to know my very first thought during my very first kiss? Here it is: Somebody's been eating chilidogs.**_

I felt my mouth twitch like it wanted to smile. Nice one, Finn.

 _ **I'm sorry. It wasn't that bad, but it was the first thing I thought. I was so anxious about what kind of kiss it would be—because my friends back home and told me about so many types—and it turned out to be the beautiful kind. You didn't shove your tongue down my throat or try and grope me. We just help out lips together . . .and kissed. That's it.  
Wait. Stop. Don't rewind. There's no need to go back because you didn't miss a thing. Let me repeat myself. That . . .is . . .all . . .that . . .happened.  
Why did you hear something else?**_

A shiver ran down my spine, guilt rushing over me. Yes, I did. Everyone did.

 _ **Well, you're right. Something did happen. Finn grabbed my hand, we walked over to the swings and we swung together. He kissed me again the very same way.  
Then? And then, Clarke? What happened then?  
Then . . .we left. He went one way and I went the other. Oh. So sorry. You wanted something sexier, didn't you? You wanted to hear how my nervous fingers started to play with his zipper. You wanted to hear . . .  
Well, what did you want to hear? Because I heard so many stories that I didn't know which one was the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular.  
The truth.  
And now, the truth is the one you'll never forget.**_

I can still remember Finn surrounded by all of his friends. Clarke walked by and they all stopped talking and stared at her as she passed. Once she was far enough down the hall they started laughing again.

But why do I remember this?

Because I wanted to talk to Clarke so many times, but I was always too nervous. Too afraid. Watching Finn and his cronies that day gave me the sense that there was more to her. More to her than I would ever know. Then, later, I hear about her getting felt up at Polis Park. She was so new that the rumor overshadowed what everyone else knew about her. From then on I saw Clarke as completely out of my league. Too experienced to even think about me. Back before I grew out of my awkward phase, before voice completely evened out, before I gained any self-confidence.

 _ **So thank you, Finn. Sincerely. My very first kiss was wonderful. And for the month or so that we lasted, and everywhere we went, the kisses we were wonderful. You were wonderful.  
But then you started bragging. A week went by and I hear nothing. But eventually, as they always will, the rumors reached me. And everyone knows you can't disprove a rumor.  
I know. I know what you're thinking. As I was telling the story, I was thinking the same thing myself. A kiss? A rumor based on a kiss made you do this to yourself?  
No. A rumor based on a kiss ruined a memory that I had hoped would be special. A rumor based on a kiss started a reputation that other people believed in and reacted to. And sometimes, a rumor based on a kiss has a snowball effect.  
A rumor, based on a kiss, is just the beginning. Turn the tape over for more.**_

I reach for the stereo, ready to press Stop but freeze as her voice fills the speakers again.

 _ **And Finn, honey, stick around. You're not going to believe where your name pops up next.**_

I hope my finger over the button listening to the speaker's crackle. I'm waiting for her voice to return. But it doesn't. The story is over. And so is side A.

 **-** **STOP** **-**


End file.
